Unknown: Part 1
by nemetb34
Summary: What is my name again? Oh that's right. I don't have one. Never have. Opie? Thing? Eva? The Glade. Only - there wasn't one Glade. Three. Mine didn't have a purpose, right? I don't know. All I know is that I am frightened and have no choice to stick with these boys. I have no idea if they are my friends or my enemies. Set during Scorch Trials - Part of a series. Weekly updates.
1. 1

Hi I thought I would give some Maze Runner fics a try! It is based during the Scorch Trials. Some of the dialogue is the same to keep it canon with the story line so please be aware of that ;p Sadly I do not own the Maze Runner Trilogy. Please review :)

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Chapter One

 _I ran. Feet pounded the floor in a methodical rhythm that matched my heartbeat perfectly, in complete sync with my adrenaline and fear, switching between a sprint and a jog. I couldn't stop running. Knowing that if I did it would be the end of me._

 _Behind me were whoops and yells of excitement as they laid in their pursuit of me. Another trophy. The final one. Everyone else had been conquered. All that remained to be captured was myself._

 _In my starvation I had foolishly thought that they had gotten bored of the venture, and with my last remaining courage I slipped into the Glade, silent, unnoticed, blending with the shadows as I snuck past the remaining monsters. Thinking it was worth the risk I stole some food, enough that would keep me from death but not too much that would be noticed. The hot sun had my pale skin burning in its heat. I turned, a mouthful of apple as I faced The King._

 _In the past I would have frozen to the spot in fear, but I had learned from others mistakes. There was no hesitation, no witty words passed forth between us. Just a quick predatory glance was all I needed. I dropped my bag and bolted away from those blue, piercing eyes and cruel spread of lips that prefigured my end; or worse. The beautiful angel looked like something created from the apocalypse._

 _Shouts continued to follow me as my feet pounded on the hard floor of the maze, winding in and out of corridors only an expert would know. The grotesque, hybrid of culture and nature blurred past me in a comforting streak. Dodging vines and straining to keep the lead, but also let them keep me in sight. My breath was coming in short, quick bursts and my body felt as heavy as lead. But I did not slow. I would not give in to the pain. I wasn't considered a threat, so when I ran down the different corridors – seemingly random – the monsters didn't hesitate in their pursuit as they delved further and further into unknown territory – my territory. Not even when we were miles from the Glade and the sun had begun to sink._

 _The familiar_ tick _of the Glade doors shutting had me stopping the game. Triumph. Finally, I had trapped them in here for the night. The distance between us grew and grew as I wound my way through the maze, until all I could hear were their defeated, anguished cries as they discovered that they lost me, and were trapped._

 _The stars were my only illumination in the dark pits of the maze, its ethereal beauty guiding me. I used the vines to haul myself up onto the second level of the maze. Up higher, I could see where the monsters milled around, arguing, threatening. I slinked away before their loud noises drew the grievers._

 _The small alcove in which I lived was simple. Created from mismatched materials and disguised with vines, it looked just like a normal wall in the maze without any cause for suspicion. The meagre supplies in it were pathetic, however, it kept me hidden from both the monsters and the grievers._

 _Melancholy filled me as the maze made its usual moans and groans as it shifted itself in certain sections. This would be the time when everyone would usually go to sleep. I shared this make-shift home with others, people who had escaped The King and the War and could either hide or die or join him. One by one they were gone._

 _It was only me left, to continue to run and hide and survive. And for what? There was no escape from this damned maze. I knew every inch of it myself! Anger itched its way across my body before it died out from the familiar douse of loneliness._

 _I fell asleep to the snarls of the maze and a scream from one of the monsters, a sadistic smile etching onto my face before I was pulled under._

* * *

I woke up to loud voices behind my door.

My eyes flew open immediately, senses on high alert. I was in the room alone, which was no surprise. Same ceiling, with the same crack in the paint running along a small side of the same corner, still flaking with a rushed re-paint. The smell of rotting flesh pervaded my senses like an onslaught, clogging up my nose and mouth, making me want to be sick, alarm bells ringing in my ears.

I slowly sat up in bed, looking around the room. Nothing had changed. A warning blared in my head but I pushed it down. I was safe. I was safe now. It was all over. A small smile cracked onto my lips, a genuine reaction that I haven't allowed myself to do in a long, long time.

The noises continued outside the room, but my levels of fear slowed quickly, my heart beat returning to its normal _thump-thump_. The prickly premonition stopped crawling up my spine like a familiar embrace. It was different, actually. To be without fear. My stomach did a queasy little flip, and I decided I liked it.

Casually, I flipped out of bed. New clothes had been laid out in my standard set of drawers. A simple watch. I bundled the sets of clothes in my arms and slipped into the secluded bathroom.

Everything in there seemed to scream with its abnormality, its unnaturalness. The walls were too white. The basin too clean. The mirror too true. It was like something my imagination had conjured up during my time in that place, and I touched it tentatively with my palm, as though to make sure I wasn't dreaming – that this was real.

It showed me back a reflection of myself that I hated, hollow eyes gazing at me with an expression of despair and a stifled, murderous fire; I pulled my gaze away quickly, not lingering.

Under the hot water of the shower, I felt an odd feeling of despondence. I continued to scrub away the residual traces of my ordeal from my skin until it was pink and raw. My vigor was painful. The water trickled off my body in filthy streams and I struggled to remember when it was the last time I had properly bathed, feeling an irrational disgust at myself for not caring more about my cleanliness.

I emerged in a cloud of steam, heat clinging to my skin like a blush. Once dry, I quickly slipped on the clothes set out for me. I couldn't control the wave of pleasure as I realised these clothes were so similar to the ones I wore through my time in hell. Black, skin tight pants and a white tank top. I slipped on my hunting boots, my feet resting familiarly in the soles. The clothes fit me perfectly, hugging onto my short bony frame like a glove. In the corner of my eye I caught a slight glimpse of myself, but I hid my gaze before I could get a proper look, hiding my face behind sheets of dark hair.

I moved to leave the bathroom.

And then I sensed something.

The familiar crawl etched its way up my back like a venomous snake, bringing along goose bumps and a sick pit of dread in my stomach that saved my life more times than I could count. I floundered for a moment, looking around the small room wild eyed. My muscles strained achingly as I pulled the steel toilet roll handle from the wall in a wincingly loud noise and a splash of plaster. I held the heavy tool in my hand up like a weapon, already cursing myself for being such a fool.

It was always thus: I would always be brought in by the false dream of security. I could never achieve it. It seems fear, pain and danger was the lifestyle I was destined for.

The door cracked open and I braced myself for the worst. My chest tightened and my eyes dilated with fear. The door opened wider to behold the danger beyond.

My vision was sharp and crystal clear as I took in the teenage boys that stood at the threshold. They seemed more stunned than I was. A strangled cry escaped my throat and I set myself up in a fighting stance, knowing I wouldn't last if it came to that. One moved to come into the room, crossing the threshold. I flinched back as far as I could, holding out the pathetic weapon in front of me. I wondered if I could run past him, but I knew he would grab me in an instant. His strong arms were held above him in a surrender position, and although I knew this meant he didn't mean me harm, I didn't lower my weapon. We stood staring at each other, green eyes blazing into dark angular ones. Everyone else seemed to fall away as we tried to gauge who would make the first move. The silence was loud enough that I could hear my own frantic beat of my heart as it thudded against my chest, fear for this unknown threat.

Once he realised I wouldn't budge, the boy made a dismissive motion to the small crowd of boys huddled beyond the door. All of them looking put out moved away, with some non-committal grumbles. The boy who had opted to stay with me said something in a language I didn't understand, and my fear levels spiked. If I didn't know what he was talking about, how did I know he wasn't a threat?

His expression of annoyance relaxed as he looked at me. I could only imagine what he saw in me, a small, weak, pathetic little thing. "Hey don't worry shank, we're not here to hurt you. Seems we've been thrown in the same boat here. Wanna give me a hand and tell me your name?" he said reasonably, but for all I could remember I had never been spoken to with reason.

The accent and the language in which he spoke had my head reeling as I fought for an answer. He moved closer towards me, as though to grab onto me. My fear pulsating along the threshold went over the limit the second he touched my skin, and I bolted. Fear, complete, unabated fear stabbed at my heart and mind familiarly as I ran past him. Moving suddenly without any tension of muscles I leaped forward and slipped under his arm. Too surprised to react he let me whiz past him before turning and coming after me. I jumped over the odd bits of furniture and barged past the last lingering boy in the room, staring after me with a bewildered expression.

I reached the open door, slipped though it and shut it behind me, breathing hard. The bright light stabbed my eyes as I took in the rest of what would be my new prison.

Feral eyes took in the building faster than possible. What I noticed more than anything was the thick chains that secured the front door. Unbreakable.

Other boys emerged from another room, staring at me curiously. My stomach churning threatened to make me sick, or worse. Curious eyes turned suspicious as they made their way towards me in a horde and my skin crawled in fear. Bangs on the door behind me forced me to run to the opposite side of the room, my back to the chains, cornered like a frightened animal. The toilet handle remained in my hand, a weak pathetic thing as I watched as all the boys stalked and circled me, trapping me like a wild rabbit and they were the predators.

"Oh god-" I whimper, forced out of my mouth unintentionally. Sobs threatened to clog up my throat as I knew that this would be the end. The suspicious, untrusting, cruel eyes were ones I knew all too well. There was no escape. At this thought, tears burned in the back of my eyes. I forced them back, biting hard onto my lip until it bled. I would not cry. Not in front of these strangers.

I had almost pulled myself together as the last of the boys gathered around me.

Horror struck as my gaze slid past them. Beyond the crowd were figures hanging from the ceiling, bloated and stinking in their death. Logically I understood that they were the source of the stench that engulfed the building, but nothing prepared me for their bulbous, bloodshot eyes, thick, hanging tongues. It was too much. Too much like the maze. Vomit threatened to push itself up my throat.

In a scream of terror I randomly threw my tool, thumping the boy who had tried to trap me in the bathroom, in the head. The profanities streamed out his mouth again like a foreign language. A smaller, thinner boy raised his hands up in the air, and crouched. He walked toward me slowly, as though I were a beast.

My lip trembled and I clenched my shaking hands into fists as he advanced. His light brown eyes shimmered with kindness. He stopped until there was a foot between us. Was this a trick?

"Hey, we won't hurt you." He said in a calm voice, still looking at me with those wide, understanding eyes. My green ones tracked his movement through menacing slits.

"How do I know that?" I shoot back, glad to hear my voice steady and strong.

"What's your name?" Another boy asks. My attention immediately flips to another. Tall, blonde, lanky. Murmurs ripple through the sea of boys, and my gaze is flipping from each one, gaze not resting. My heart beats faster as I can't comprehend who is the next, most important threat. I stay silent, my gaze flickering. Panic builds.

At my silence, no one else speaks for a while. Movement. My eyes track the Asian who I hit, blood trickling weakly down the side of his short black hair. His face was a twist of annoyance as he moved to the front to stand in between the two who had already spoken.

"Listen, you shuck face." I winced at the menace in his voice and almost cowered away. His voice softened as he continued, "We ain't gonna hurt you. So tell us who you bloody are." I straightened, and my red lips pulled back onto my teeth, resembling more a beast's snarl than a smile.

"My name is Newt." Said the tall blonde. "This is Thomas," he continued, gesturing at the boy with kind brown eyes, "Minho." Minho was tall, taller than me. Tanned skin, the kind you get from spending a lot of time outside, short black cropped hair and muscled arms. His face looked as it might've been kind, but seemed in a perpetual state of barely suppressed distaste. These would be the last faces I would see before I died, and I spent my time taking in their images. The threat these people posed was not one I was used to, all obnoxious and boastful and full of bloodlust. The unknown was what I feared as I stared with wide eyes at the group before me.

I gulped, reaching into my small reserve of courage. "They call me The Thing."

Laughs boom through the room and I can't control the flinch as I take a step back. Embarrassment flames across my milk coloured skin as they laugh. Even the boy with kind eyes sniggers.

"Funny." Minho says. "Seriously, what's your name?"

I jut my chin out defiantly, but I know it doesn't work as my lip trembles and my fists quiver. "I don't know my name. I don't know anything. So they called me The Thing."

"Wait – you don't remember anything at all?" Newt asks, confusion on his face.

"Do you know someone called Teresa?" My eyes flick to the worried voice coming from Thomas. His face was a complete depiction of worry and despair.

I shake my head slowly. "No. I don't know anyone with any names."

Newt's thoughtful look turned into one of deep contemplation. Fear itched its way over my body once more, causing tremors to ripple along my body and I forced myself to be calm. If I got into a state, there is no way of knowing how it will end. My eyes close, and I take a deep breath.

"What are you going to do to me?" I asked, and I couldn't help the small, weak voice that came out – barely a whisper. "Please – Please don't kill me." I choke.

My eyes flick open and lock on Minho, the one I sensed the most likely to attack.

"We're not going to do anything, okay?" Thomas said gently.

As though from a silent command, they split off, heading to a room that I hadn't seen before. Thomas gestured for me to come over as he had a quick conversation with Newt and Minho. Another boy with olive skin and jet black hair joined the small cluster, and I edged away.

"Who's that guy?" Minho proclaimed to newbie. I instantly became interested in this new one. So I wasn't the only one that was fresh in this merry band of thieves. The look of mistrust Minho was giving the newbie was clearly making him feel uncomfortable, and he shifted under his intense gaze.

"Minho, meet Aris." Thomas gestured. "Aris, meet Minho." Minho replied in that same foreign language.

"Look, let's take down the top beds in Aris' room and move them around the room. Then we can all sit and figure out what's bloody going on." Newt said.

Thomas shook his head in desperation, and I put that into my inventory. Already, these people had promised that they wouldn't attack and yet… and yet I was already thinking on attack mode. "No. First, we need to go find Teresa. She must be in some other room."

"Isn't one," Minho said.

"What do you mean?"

"I just checked the whole place out. There's the big common area, this room, our dorm room, and this shuck-face's room." He said, gesturing at me. I nod, acknowledging it. "Thought she was Teresa because of the dark hair, but obviously..." he trailed off, guardedly looking at Thomas. "There are some seriously shucked doors that lead outside – where we came in from the bus yesterday. Locked and chained from the _inside._ Doesn't make any sense, but I don't see any other doors or exists."

"But… what about last night? Where'd the food come from? Didn't anyone notice other rooms, a kitchen, anything?" Thomas looked wildly around the common area.

I piqued up. "I don't recognize anything. The place I was in was completely different… If that helps." I trail off, worry gnawing onto my stomach like starvation.

"Your door wasn't there last night." Minho said thoughtfully.

"Maybe there's a hidden door," Newt said. "Look, we can only do one thing at a time. We need to –"

"No!" Thomas shouted, and I couldn't help myself. I thought he was going to lash out in anger and I crouched and moved back faster than a reflex, a seasoned training of someone who has only lived with fear in her life. I struggled to remember the last civil conversation I had had and heat built up behind my eyes. The boys all looked at me with complete and utter confusion. Shame made my skin flare in hot red splotches but I didn't offer an explanation and nobody asked. I recovered myself and Thomas continued. "We've got all day to talk to this Aris guy and the… Thing. The label by the door said Teresa should be here somewhere – we need to find her!"

He stalked off, pushing past boys who we still milling around.

We stood in silence as he started to check the dead bodies to make sure that whoever this Teresa girl was, her face wasn't among them.

Newt rubbed a weary hand on his face. "Come on, let's get sorted shall we?"

I trailed after the three boys like a lost puppy, shooting worried looks to everyone who I met eye contact with. Which, was seemingly everyone. I was something of a novelty apparently. I stayed silent, despite Newt's attempt to hold up a conversation, I was too busy dwelling on this new hell I had been thrust into. I thought I had escaped. I thought that I was safe, before it was all mercilessly ripped from me without a second thought.

A thick hand grabs my wrist, and Minho pulls me down to sit beside him on one of the beds that were taken apart. I give him an alarmed look and scramble away to the far edge. He doesn't look hurt, in fact he looks quite amused. My anger spikes and embarrassment flares across my face once more. I mumble an apology and move to sit off the edge. I force a wry smile onto my face as I see him staring.

"We can't just call you Thing." He says, struggling not to laugh.

"Why not?" I ask, puzzlement scarring my face.

"Because, it's not right." Newt says, as he squishes himself next to me, forcing me to be closer to the two boys than I would have liked. My skin flares up and I feel hot all over, not having any human contact that I remember that wasn't something violent and torturous. Before either of them can say another word I jump up and move to an empty bed across the room, feeling hot and cold all over and a huge lump in my throat in a physical depiction of my fear. I shivered, was this what it was going to be like for the rest of my life now? I would be too scared to even sit next to people who didn't bear a threat to me – yet.

Across the room Minho's expression looked mildly amused and hurt flashed across my chest in a wave of fire. He had no idea what I had been through! No concept of the torture and horror that had been my life for the past year… and beyond that… nothing. I couldn't remember anything, not even my name.

But for now I had no choice but to trust these people, something I am _not_ used to doing.


	2. 2

Ooh la la thank you for my first review, here is chapter two! Please review :) And I do not own the Maze Runner Trilogy (cry)

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Chapter Two

 _Rain ripped through the sky like the anguished tears of a giant, shedding themselves from the sky, shredding the bulging clouds and howling through the thick impenetrable darkness, engulfing all attempts at light to break through without restraint as the people below fought for cover from the unnatural force. Bright shards of electricity streaked the sky, the only force in this universe that could slash through the enveloping thickness in the distance, beyond the Glade, beyond the walls, beyond the maze. Illuminating the pale, wet, fearful faces that mirrored my own. Now, once enemies, we all huddled together under the canopy of the copse of trees for shelter, staying close to keep in the warmth as nature fought for our extinction for what we had done. I prayed, like I always did. I didn't have anyone to pray to, so I prayed to the faces in each glimmer of a flashback, hoping that they were behind all of this and could end it just as quickly as it had begun. I prayed that we would all be struck in a pillar of brilliance that didn't belong in my world that shattered through the sky as it did our bodies, wiping any trace of us from the earth. Fear of the unknown and the bolts beyond was stronger than my fear of these monsters – who were not monsters at all. Children. They were all children born without a sense of morality. Demons. Monsters._

 _I didn't know why I was different. Why I felt remorse, compassion, guilt. I pretended to be as vicious and uncaring as the rest, and I played my part well. Sneering and laughing during the funerals, turning a blind eye as one by one the weak were eliminated, joining in on fights to prove myself. All for what? The game seemed pointless now. I almost wanted to offer myself up as a thing for The King to play with and torture. To forsake my ridiculous name and be given the title of the lowliest low. I wanted to burn out my eyes and forget the horrific things that I had condoned to ensure my own survival. Perhaps that makes me worse. These monsters, they don't know what they are doing is wrong. They have no conscience. They have no moral compass, screaming at them every night to end it all, end the torture and pain. So easily too…_

 _I snapped myself out of it before the feelings of the desire pulled me under in an iron clasped grip that I neither could nor wanted to escape._

 _My eyes drooped heavily and I sunk to the floor, my guard mistakenly down as we were united in a common terror. Naïve. My allies surrounded me, sticking together, always. The screech and howl of the unearthly, disgusting spawn of those that put us in here, baying like wounded animals when they discovered that we had all gotten out in time for the gates to close. They slammed with a shake of a fatal finality. The abysmal rain continued in its unrelenting torrent into the silence. No one dared speak for fear of how we would react._

 _The King and The Queen stood at the door of the hotel which was our home for a brief while, the warm glow of light silhouetting their figures deceptively, suggesting that beyond the doors was safer than out here. Most averted their gazes from the group of figures watching on tauntingly as we continued to huddle in the damp. Others stared back defiantly, bravely challenging._

 _I was neither. I was neither brave enough to be intransigent, nor scared enough to completely avoid their gazes. A lot had happened since the first days, I was no longer the quivering little fool I once was._

 _When I awoke the torrent of rain had stopped, leaving a cheerful sunny day in its wake as though the night had never existed. My naïve optimism for peace was completely destroyed as my bleary eyes took in the Glade. The devastation told a different story. Muddy puddles had been soaked up were now replaced with a collection of red smeared along the idyllic paradise like a devils stain. The nightmare had come to reality once more, and I was not safe. Bile rose to my throat and forced me to wake up further, fear and unabated terror itching its way through my stomach like a marvelous wound._

 _My eyes registered the upturned soil stained with blood, the motionless bodies around me all too slowly. In a daze I stood up and moved towards The Zip. His face was stuck in a perpetual expression of abject horror as I imagine he lived in his last few moments. Gore smeared his blonde hair. Those that were still alive had fled, leaving me surrounded by corpses. Leaving me. Alone. My reality was more like a page taken from a nightmare as I stared at the unresponsive, immovable, bodies. Life snuffed out like the wick of a candle. I gazed longingly at the doors to the maze. I knew, that if they didn't already know I was alive, they would catch me if I tried to make a break for it across the open. Not two seconds after I had this thought, a huge hand rested heavily onto my frail shoulder._

 _"_ _Ah, woken up have we?" The Giant asked me. The huge, hulking figure loomed over me, menace and evil intent marring his face in a cruel twist of sadism. Terrified I stumbled back, feet slipping on the wet, stained grass and bodies. The impertinent smell of rot hung in the air like a thick fog. Fat tears slid down my face as The Giant lifted me up easily, as though I were nothing more than a rag doll. I wanted to scream and fight and kill this creature from the underworld, but I had to restrain. I was weak. I knew I could do no physical damage. I conserved my energy, knowing there would be no use in struggling away from him. He was too big, too powerful, too cruel. And I was nothing compared to him. Nothing except a little sport. Everything became so much more visceral, light shining through the leaves like green tinged speckled beams as light filtered through the canopy beautifully only to fall short of our shadows, showing the ultimate relationship between beauty and entrapment. The inevitability that I wouldn't have ever escaped. That this was my destiny._

 _A final whimper of fear._

 _The Giant threw me onto the floor in front of The King like a sacrifice. My body hit the dirt hard, knocking the wind out of me. I struggled to get up and then The Giant lay his huge palm on the back of my head, shoving my face forcefully into the hard packed dirt. My body flailed weakly as the earth filled my orifices, the stench of dirt and copper physically choking me as I splutter to spit out the rancid, bitty substance. The hand is removed and I faintly hear sounds of mockery. I lay on the ground, regaining my breath as the monsters stood watching in anticipation. The sun burned my eyes as I stared directly into it, almost blinding myself, forcing myself to be brave. To have courage. To not cry and show my fear. I yanked my eyes away and stared at the bloodstained shoes of The Giant, looking like grisly spatters of paint. Slowly, steadily, I got to my knees and bowed, sacrificing any remaining dignity I had left._

 _"_ _My King." I addressed, layering my voice with as much respect and fear as I could. He liked to know that he was in power. I resisted the urge to flinch from my own betrayal._

 _"_ _Ah, my child." He said, half with contempt and half with genuine sincerity. His voice made my skin crawl and I resisted the urge to recoil in marvelous disgust. I didn't raise my head to meet those cold, malevolent eyes. I was scared he would see who I truly was. Shivers trembled along my spine despite the intense heat. "What was it that I called you again?" I could hear amusement thickly in his voice from above me. Heart pounds in a chest like a trapped humming bird and fear contorted my innards like a broken instrument, each thrum of my heart beat twisted my insides further and further. Goosebumps littered my skin with the crawl of fear and the bestiality of the sun beat on me like a practiced torturer; red pyres danced on the back of my closed lids, foreshadowing my penultimate demise with a bonfire as my final resting place._

 _I knew the answer he wanted. I just didn't know if I was that cowardly to accept my new position, to forsake the little reputation I had. To give up. What was the point in giving up when I had fought so hard? His hand twitched towards the knife in his belt, a crude sharpened bone from The Beginning. I had seen that blade many times over, slashing and sawing as I stood watching. I gulped. "The Thing," I paused, choking back my disgust and my pride, "my King." Booming laughter echoed my voice from the monsters, shame welled up in my body like a poison and I pushed back my tears like a physical force, barricading myself from that kind of emotion._

 _"_ _Oh oh oh!" The King said gleefully like a spoiled little child. "I remember you now." Silence echoed hauntingly and the rustle of the trees became deafening. "Look at me." He demanded, his voice turning to cold and hostile without a second thought, an unnatural transition for those with a grip on sanity. Fear gripped my stomach in a vice as I struggled to raise up my chin and stare at him, but his face had me flinching away all too quickly – but not before I saw the sadistic stain across his face spread like a red gash._

 _"_ _My little Thing." His voice was like velvet, seductive, filled with all the gentleness of a lover's caress. "Stand up, my sweet. We have a game to play."_

* * *

In the room, the top beds had been unhooked from the lower ones and placed around the room against the walls, enough space for the 21 boys and me.

My eyes scanned the room warily, assessing the potential dangers. My gaze kept flicking to Newt and Minho, oddly feeling safe with them. But I couldn't let my guard down. Who knew how much of this was an act? What if they were just as sadistic as the monsters, ready to torture me after a lull of safety with a lurid whip of cruelty? I was afraid. I couldn't remember a time when I wasn't. A brief, flitter of contentment overcame me that morning, and it was ripped away all too quickly. Tears in the backs of my eyes felt like iron, ready to push through. Minho caught my eye, and I squashed the glimmer of hope that I could be safe with these people as I ripped my gaze away from his midnight glare. Newt was one of concern as he eyed me, watching my movements like one would for a worried friend. This comparison had me shivering and flitting my gaze to staring into space. Conversation was light until Thomas joined the group. His eyes immediately found me and he attempted a supportive smile, although it was ruined by the heartbroken look in his eye. I didn't venture a conversation, not that it was hard as I was studiously ignored by everyone. I knew that most of the conversation was about me and Aris. Unlike me, he was sat with other boys, talking to them, gaining their trust. After I had sat down, everyone avoided my gaze like a disease, gaping at me when they thought I wasn't looking. This resulted in a perpetual stain of red high on my cheek bones like blood on a white canvas. I wanted to duck behind my hair, but it was so dry and thin and brittle it wouldn't make much of a shield for my embarrassment.

"Told ya, dude. Have a seat and let's talk. We waited on you. But close that shuck door as much as you can first – smells worse than Gally's rotting feet out there." At this Thomas visibly winced, and sat next to Minho, the space that he was patting. I absently wondered who Gally was as Thomas paled, but it wasn't high on my list of priorities.

"All right, let's get started on the bloody storytellin' so we can get to the real problem – finding something to eat." This didn't bother me, I had been forced through extended periods of time from starvation, but this prospect didn't seem to appetize the other boys. A swell of pride flittered through my body in an unknown cage as I knew that I could be stronger than them, despite my size. This thought made the familiar prickle come back and all I wanted to do was look proud and strong. Opposite to what I desired, I hunched in on myself, hugging my knees and peering at the boys with my dull green eyes. Or the colour of vomit. There was not an insult for my appearance that I hadn't heard.

"Good that," Minho said. "Talk, Aris. Tell us everything. Then the girl. Then us."

"No way. You guys go first." Aris said, looking proudly defiant. I understood tactically why they wanted us to go first, but I felt obliged to support Aris I tried to mimic his look and nodded but I didn't know how effective it was.

"Yeah?" Minho responded, his voice cold. "How about we all just take turns beating the living klunk out of your shuck face? Then we'll ask you to talk again." I recoiled unintentionally once again.

"Minho," Newt said sternly, shooting me a worried look. I felt sick at the look of pity in his eyes, and I straightened my back. I would put on the mask that I had worn through the past year. I thought it was over, that I could shed and put that part of me in the past, buried and grave-dressed. "There's no reason –"

Minho pointed sharply at Aris. "Please, dude. For all we know both of you could be working for the Creators. Somebody from WICKED, here to spy on us."

"And The Insect can't do that effectively enough?!" I say, proud at their shock that I even spoke at all.

"What the shuck is The Insect?"

"Dude, is it a beetle blade?"

"Whatever, they could've killed those people out there – they are the only ones we don't know and the doors and windows are locked! I'm sick of him acting all snooty and she is just a shuck-face. We've got twenty guys to their two. They should talk first." Hurt flashed through my body and I ducked my head in shame. What the hell was a shuck-face? I struggled to be offended by the insult, but the mistrust they showed me completely mirrored mine.

"Hold on, you're assuming we _know_ each other? I have never seen that girl in my whole life!" Aris said.

"He's got a point. Just tell us what you meant about coming from the buggin' Maze. That's where _we_ escaped from, and we obviously haven't met you."

The laugh that escaped my throat was unexpected and dark, with a complete lack of mirth. "How ironic that _I_ came from the Maze too."


	3. 3

Hi everyone, review to let me know how you think this is going ;p

* * *

Chapter Three

 _What was my name before I was The Thing? I didn't know. It seemed so long ago, in a hazy enthralling reality that seemed so blissful in comparison to the dystopia that had become my life. It was hard to describe, living in a half awake state that seems as though it is one big dream with only slashes of reality cutting through the haze, bringing me out of my stupor. My life seemed unreal once more as the droplets of salt slid down my face in a hot blaze of incandescent, iridescence. Immaculate. Untainted. Pure. It was the purity which I found beautiful. In my short life, there had been a limited amount of beautiful things I had seen. 17 years old and I could only remember 3 months of my life. It was a perfect symbolism. The vertical bars of luminescence penetrated the darkness through the leaves as I drifted in and out of consciousness. Surely this wasn't happening to me, I wondered to myself absently. A sickroom hush fell across the world until there was no sound except the frantic beat of my heart and the unstoppable scream that ripped its way out of my throat like knives. There were no words to describe the hot rods of pain that lashed my back and body. The slash of reality was no longer figuritve as the whips of leather slashed and slashed at my back without mercy, rendering my body a bloody slab of meat in which to gawk at. I no longer felt the sting of my pride at being reduced to this. I no longer felt cared at my loss of dignity as my white shirt lay on the floor in bloody tatters, the pure force of the whip enough to tear through cloth and flesh alike. The gleeful shouts and jeers echoed around me, but it was all numb, as though once again it was happening to someone else. A brief flash of a face flickered behind my lids. Dressed all in white, a syringe in her hand. Bees hummed in my ears as I fought to stay conscious, fought to keep the darkness from pulling my vision under in a tentacle of raw, masculine power. I was a fool to think that accepting the role would be any benefit, that I could escape any worse fate than death. I was wrong I discovered. Death at least had an end. A comfortable nothingness. An enveloping darkness that was finite. As lash after lash hit my body with an earth quaking force, sending my restrained body in uncontrollable spasms, I wanted to weep and beg for my death like a coward. Another scream was ripped out of my throat, skin grating like sandpaper until hot, wet blood filled my mouth with its metallic, coppery taste. I gagged. I vomited what little was in my stomach onto the ground below, my own sick mixing in with the pool of blood forming at my feet. There was a brief lapse, and I felt no respite, the stabs became an unbearable throb as I felt blood trickle down my backs and legs, pooling at my feet. I knew that it would continue until I was dead. Cheers increased in their tempo as they realized I was close to the end, their frenzy for blood mixed in the air until there was a violent energy that I couldn't resist but be drawn into as well. The world pulsed around me like strobe lights, leering faces increasing and decreasing in size as the screams of lust faded in and out in the same flow of my consciousness. Big hands cupped my face in a gentle, sensitive embrace, pulling up my head until I locked eyes onto those piercing malevolent blue. Instead of an expression of cruel delight, all I saw was a mask of sincerity and pity. Only a mask._

 _He asked me how close I was to dying._

 _I couldn't form words in response, my grasp on reality foggy and thoughts slippery and unsubstantial. A thick mist filled my head as though my ears were stuffed with gauze. He shook my face._

 _No response._

 _He punched._

 _The sharp stab of pain and flow of blood from my nose brought me to. I wanted to cry and beg for mercy, to lose every last bit of dignity that I had left. I knew it would be no use, so I spat the glob of blood that had collected disgustingly in my mouth and onto his face. One last moment of satisfaction before it was all gone in a vision of absolute nothingness. I embraced it. The red stained his pale features, and he dramatically wiped the substance from his perfect, angelic face. I expected him to be angry, to have me executed right then and there._

 _No one was more surprised than I when he ordered me to be untied and given medical attention._

* * *

Everyone stared at me in shock, incredulity, disbelief and distrust.

Aris stared at me for a long moment, as though trying to remember me from somewhere. His dark eyes searched mine warily, and I tried to meet his gaze defiantly but I was the one to pull away, cheeks flaming. In the corner of my eye I saw a small smile tug at his lips.

"Fine, listen." Aris said, tearing his gaze away from me and locking onto Newt. "I was thrown into this gigantic maze made out of huge stone walls – but before that my memory was erased. I couldn't remember anything about my life from before. I just knew my name. I lived there with a bunch of girls. There must've been fifty of them, and I was the only boy. We escaped a few days ago – the people who helped kept us in a big gym for a few days, then moved me here last night – but no one explained anything. What's this stuff about you all being in the maze too?" Even though he was speaking collectively, he was looking at me with a blazing intensity that I wasn't used to. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, well aware that everyone's attention had turned to me. Heat rose to my face.

My mind was reeling. Three mazes. One for Aris, one for me, and one for all these boys.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath before I explained. But three mazes, all created for what purpose? It was incomprehensible. Why on earth would any one do that? At first I thought it was a cruel sport, but now… it seems something so much more. More monumental than anything I could comprehend.

I took a deep sigh. I opened my eyes to find everyone staring back at me. "Pretty much sums up where I was too. There were walls that reached the sky, and we would be trapped in the Glade at nightfall. The maze was a safer bet than the Glade." I said, bitterness tinging my voice like poison. I yanked myself away from that. Before I could continue, Newt interrupted.

"Wait a minute," Newt said. "You both lived in a big maze, separate from each other, on a farm, with walls that closed every night? Just you and a few doezen girls? How many were in yours?" He directed at me.

I gulped. "400. Two hundred boys, two hundred girls."

"Were there creatures called Grievers? Were you the last one to arrive? And did everything go buggin' nuts when you did? Did you come in a coma? With a note that said you were the last one ever?" A small part of this made sense to me, but the wide eyes Aris had meant that it was significant to his time in the maze.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Aris was saying even before the Newt had finished. "How do you know all this? How…"

"It's the same shuck experiment," Minho said. "Or the same, whatever. But they had all girls and one boy, we had all boys and one girl. WICKED must've built three mazes, run three different tests." His eyes locked onto mine. "Now… tell us why yours was different."

I shot a worried look to Minho, panic already setting in as I remember that place. The field of blood, the creatures… My eyes begged him not to make me recall that place. They pleaded. All I was met with the same determination and my last chance at having any faith in these people were lost. It left me like a deflated balloon, sweeping through my insides and removing it until there was nothing. Nothing but bitterness and pain and anger. I felt a slight shift in myself. My features hardened, as did my heart. "Very well." I said in the most clipped tone that I could.

"I was in the Maze. I was in the Glade. 200 boys, 200 girls. No names. No supplies. Nothing. It didn't take long for cannibalism to ensue due to lack of supplies. The second that it did, supplies were sent up. Like the people who put us in here wanted it to happen." My voice was cold, clinical, hard, devoid of all emotion. Contrasting the whirlwind of emotions that churned my stomach into twists and wanted me to run, run as far away as I could. "The King ruled like a tyrant, killing, torturing, raping whoever he felt like it. I was called The Opie."

"What the shuck is an opie?"

I had a small smile at that. "I found some opium poppies. Managed to get a decent high out of it." I said darkly. Uneasy looks were shared with the gladers, and I felt a swell of pride. They had no idea what kind of dark, dirty place in which I was born. I could continue to make them uneasy, but all I had to do was shove down my fear into the smallest pits of myself as I have done before. I resisted a shiver at the thought, not wanting to revert to my previous self – but it was necessary for my survival. "To save my skin I became The Thing." I offered no explanation, and the hazed looks on the boys suggested that if I tried they would just get more and more confused. "I escaped. Stole some food. A miniature war occurred. It was anarchy." I abstained from the darker part of my past. They didn't need to know. Not like being a drug lord wasn't dark, but still.

"Wait, so you were just thrown in with a bunch of psychos, taking drugs, and torturing each other?" Minho asks, his vice laced with disbelief.

I resisted the urge to laugh. The way he was so distrusting and matter of fact, reminded me of myself. "Yep. Sums it up."

"Well that doesn't make me trust you."

"I never asked you to." I shoot back, angry. "The second we get out of here, I'm gone from you."

"Good."

"Good!"

"Where are the others?" Newt prompts into the air. I stare at him with dead eyes, and I cannot help the cruel twist of my blood red lips, although it had a complete lack of humour.

"They're all dead." I say with a pained voice, but with a sadistic hint of relish had my lips twisting further. "I was the only survivor."


	4. 4

Hi everyone! Thanks again for the wonderful reviews :) Let me know what you think about this chapter! :p

* * *

Chapter Four

 _Miniature suns burned behind closed lids, causing my head to swim. With a seemingly great effort I forced my eyes open and was left dazzled in the sudden brightness of the sun. I squinted and shaded my eyes with my hand. Once my vision had returned and no black splotches danced in my periphery I began to take in this new world I was thrust into. The memory is as clear as if I were living it right now. Surrounding me were hundreds of unconscious bodies, completely motionless in the blazing heat of the sun. Limbs bent at awkward angles, the barely visible rise and fall of their chest, hair spread out like a fan beneath them, the similar outfits of combat, children and young adults. It was unimaginable, knowing what I knew now, how in sleep they looked so innocent and yet were capable of such atrocities. I was the only one awake. I picked my way through the mass of bodies delicately, as though not to disturb them in their slumber._

 _If I had known what I knew now, I would have strangled them all in their sleep._

 _My panic won over my curiosity and it began to build in my mind as the hours passed agonizingly slowly. I wished that they would all wake up and offer me comfort instead of being alone. In a patch of sunlight I sat with my knees hunched up to my chest. Beyond the bewilderment of where I was, there was the dark, empty pit in my mind. I searched and searched for who I was, coming up with only two words branded in my mind._ The Glade. _I had no name, no identity, surrounded by unconscious people in unfamiliar territory. I wondered if I was dreaming, if all of this was a figment of my imagination. Temporarily blocking my memories, my subconscious had fabricated this miniature world to frighten, to terrify me. Innately, I knew that I was not a strong girl. I was easily afraid and cowardly. Panic built within my chest like an oppressive force, restraining my breathing and causing dark spots to dance tauntingly at the corners of my eyes. That was when I realized that it was real. This wasn't fake. The pain of my own abandonment snaked up on me like a disease, poisoning my thoughts until I was a huddled mess, surrounded morbidly by the lifeless bodies of the others._

 _Fear had me stirring, knowing that if I was thrust in here, I must at least know my territory. I was pleased at my own bravery, deciding I wouldn't be weak. How naïve to believe that it was an aspect that I could just 'decide' to do. I explored the Glade and not far beyond where everyone was dumped, there was an arena. A pit at been dug up and the edges smoothed into grooves that were either steps or chairs made out of dirt. Sand littered the bottom of the pit. Worry gnawed in the pit of my stomach anxiously as I beheld the arena and a dark cloud of foreboding washed over me like a shadow._

 _"_ _What is this place?" I murmur to myself, and quickly clamp my mouth shut. Scurrying away from the arena, I discovered a large house was in one corner of the Glade, filled with adequate bedding and spare clothes. A porch held a rocking bench with swung and creaked eerily in the wind. Varnished floorboards held underneath my feet, doors were well oiled and didn't squeak. The hallway was covered with a delicate wallpaper, blue and gold with white trimmings. I traversed the hallways and separate floors. Blank name plates were on each of the doors as though it were a dorm room. Each room was identical, standardized plain bedding and a set of drawers and a mirror._

 _I looked at myself in the mirror, and felt a shock. I couldn't remember what I looked like and the stranger staring back at me was more foreign than this prison I had been thrown into. Bright, sparking green eyes stared out at me, shadowed and dulled by fear. Thin, white face already tinged red with the intense heat of the Glade. High cheek bones like razors. Full red lips, bleeding and raw from being bitten in worry. Scraggly, untouched black hair framed the face in sheets. A small, birdlike body, all awkward angles and bones. My attire consisted of a white tank top and trousers, with combat boots. A small scar was in the crook of my elbow. Tearing my gaze away from the figure before me – out of disgust or fear – I still don't know._

 _I left the house far behind me, almost running to get away from that haunting reflection. Tears burned in my eyes and slid into my hairline as I ran, my breath getting knocked out of me. Green blurred past me, smearing the world alongside my tears. The forest, expanding larger than most of the area, filled with dark, deciduous woodland with bearing oaks and underbrush. Rough bark tore at my skin as I raced past, barely taking the time to dodge the looming oaks. A rickety bridge crossed a small stream, the idyllic and peaceful setting looking like a painting. It seemed fake in light of my panic and fear. A gorgeous meadow lay beyond that, filled with poppies._

 _Beyond even the meadow began the first of the huge, stone wall. The whole Glade was surrounded by eerie walls that reached the sky, higher than anything that I could comprehend in an unnatural hybrid of concrete and nature as vines crawled up the sides like veins. Fear clutched at my stomach in a vice as I realized I was trapped. I ran, I ran the length of the stone walls, round the whole Glade until I was back where I started. Right in front of me, the doors were open like a gash, revealing somewhere more dark and sinister than I could have imagined. Screeches and howls echoed through the area beyond as though sensing my gaze upon it. I flinched back, stumbling. North, south, east and west, doors were open and showing only a sliver of the darkness that lay beyond the wall._

 _And then movement. Hours after I had woken up, a figure stirred, and then more and more, blinking up at the darkening sky above and making noises of confusion and disbelief._

 _Instinct took over in a rush that I couldn't control. I dropped to the ground like a ragdoll, head hitting the hard dirt heavily, and feigning unconsciousness. Enough time had passed and I began to wake up with the rest of them, the same, bewildered look on our faces as I once again looked around at what would be my prison._

* * *

No one spoke. They all stared at me with a new light, as though I wasn't the complete and utter weakling they initially believed me to be.

"How did they all die?" Newt asked, baffled.

My sadistic smile was wiped off in an instant as I was taken back to that place. I knew my expression looked haunted as everyone looked at me with a new-found curiosity. Newt looked as though he was on the cusp of an idea.

"So many ways." I said softly, staring into the bright and intelligent eyes of Newt. He clenched his wide jaw thoughtfully, and I watched as the muscle flitted under the skin. I cleared my throat. "Some died in the war. Others by The King. Most by the creatures the – by WICKED."

"Were these Grievers?"

"Some." I replied, retreating into myself, not wanting to recall it. Silence ensued as people took in the information.

"Did they call you the Trigger?" Thomas said, looking at Aris, completely dismissing me. Anger flared but I stifled it. I would endure them until I found an escape, and that was it. I didn't seem to be the only one to be surprised at the sudden shift in subject, and Newt held a hand up to Thomas.

"Slim it, okay? We'll concentrate on _her_ for now, right? Seems like his experience is just an inverse of ours, and as you said, we've got all day to talk."

"How did you escape?" Minho butted in, leaning forward, resting his elbows onto his knees.

I stared at the floor for a while, tears burning up in my eyes, wanting to bury the memories deep deep in my mind. "I didn't escape. I was rescued." I said, and Minho and Newt tried to press for more details, but I became closed off. I pulled my legs up to my chest once more and hugged them, pretending to stare into space to avoid talking.

"Ugh, fine, Tommy, carry on." Minho said with no sympathy. He rubbed a hand tiredly on his face.

Thomas rolled his eyes. "And could you…" he said, hesitating. "Could you speak to one of those girls inside your mind? Ya know, like telepathically?"

My eyes widened as I stared at him. Was he crazy? Telepathy? That was absolutely ridiculous! The two boys stared at each other with a newfound understanding and I watched on in horror and shock, shaking my head, my hand flying up to my mouth in disbelief. No one else seemed shocked at this revelation, but disgust was plain on their faces.

"What's going on?" Newt asked from opposite me, leaning forward. "Why're you guys looking at each other like you just fell in love?"

"He can do it too." Thomas replied, his weighty stare still locked onto Aris.

"Do what?" Another boy asked.

"What do you think?" Minho said with the same amount of distaste as when he addressed me. "He's a freak like Thomas. They can talk in each other's heads." I shivered in fear and disgust, but was happy to know that this _thing_ was unnatural to most of them as well. I could understand why someone might lash out, or be withdrawn, but when something didn't have a reason or an explanation… that's when I began to fear. It was why my whole time in the maze was a constant presence of terror; unabated, real.

" _Who_ killed her? What happened?" Thomas asked and Aris went sickly pale.

"Who killed who?" Minho butted in again. "No more of your voodoo klunk while we're around."

Thomas finally tore his gaze from Aris before locking onto Minho. "He had someone he could do this with, just like I did. I mean… _do._ " The way he said it, I suspected that this was the Teresa girl he was muttering on about. "But he said they killed her. I want to know who _they_ are."

Aris didn't look entirely comfortable with Thomas divulging his personal information, and I felt a wave of pity. I wouldn't like these strangers assessing everything that had happened to me, especially the death of someone I cared about. I tried to catch his eye to show that I was on his side, but similar to an unspoken general consensus, I was being ignored.

"I don't really know who _they_ are. It's too confusing. I couldn't tell the bad guys from the good guys. But I think somehow they made this girl Beth… stab… my friend. Her name was Rachel. She's dead man. She's dead." He covered his face with his hands and once again I felt a wave of pity for him, and anger at the group of boys. I knew that I would have to rely on them to get out, and after that I am gone. No way am I staying with these people. So far they hadn't reminded me of anyone from the Glade, but it was early. Their natures would show through soon enough. It always does.

A small part of myself pitied me. I had become so cynical and distrusting that it was saddening to see myself reduced to this.

All because of WICKED.

"Well, how'd you end up with us?" Newt asked Aris. "Where are all these girls you keep talking about? How many of them escaped with you? Did they bring you all here or just you?" I continued to feel sorry for him as he got grilled by these questions, and couldn't help but wonder when it was my question time. Aris looked up with a few tears staining his cheeks, without any kind of shame. I studied him curiously.

"Look, I'm just as confused as everyone else. About thirty of us survived, they took us to that gym, fed us, cleaned us up. Then they brought me to this place last night, saying I should be separate since I'm a guy. That's it. Then you sticks show up."

" _Sticks?_ " Minho repeated as though it were the worst insult anyone could have possibly have given him.

A small smile played on Aris's lips. "Never mind, I don't even know what it means. Just a word they used when I got there."

Newt turned to me. "So what happened after you were rescued? Do you know who by?"

I fought the urge to bolt. Instead, I calmed my muscles and closed my eyes once more. "I was the only one rescued. I don't know who they were. I didn't know if they were WICKED or someone else. They brought me to a building that was only a kitchen and my room. They gave me some food and I ate it in my room, not trusting the people who saved me. I fell asleep. I woke up, had a shower and then you guys were waiting outside the bathroom door."

"So you didn't ask any questions?"

"Of course I did! Doesn't mean they gave me any answers."

Newt was silent while he processed this. I shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny of both Newt and Minho, both opposite in complete ways. Dark and bright eyes studied me, one with a frown and one with a smirk.

"Hey, what's that on the side of your neck? Something black, right below your collar?" an unrecognizable boy called out to Aris.

"What?" Aris asked with incredulity in his voice as he struggled to read what it said. I peered curiously at the gathered boys. I saw a dark line of black, and instantly knew it was a tattoo. I absently thought to mine, hidden by thick black hair. Almost unconsciously, my fingers stroked the slight raise in skin behind my ear, my heart clenching in shame and melancholy. Boys began to get up and crowd around Aris, Newt included. Fearful, I edged back until my back was pressed against the cool wall, as tucked away as possible from the crowd. Through the throng, I could see Minho's eyes tracking me curiously, as though my fear were some abstract amusement for him. Fury blazed in my eyes and I pulled them away from him before he could see.

"It's a tattoo!" Newt called, identifying what was on Aris.

"What's it say?" Minho asked, finally tearing his gaze from me and getting up and joining the crowd. The boys all peered at the tattoo, confusion etched on their features.

"What's it supposed to mean?" Minho asked.

"What does it _say?_ " Aris asked, alarm tinging his voice as he continued to struggle to peer at the writing on his neck. "I swear it wasn't there last night!"

"Property of WICKED. Group B, Subject B1. The Partner." Newt spoke in a hollow voice. "Property of WICKED? I thought we'd escaped them. Or you'd escaped them too. Whatever." He turned around, visibly annoyed and joined me on the bed, slamming down as though he had forgotten I was there.

"Why would it call you the _Partner?_ " Minho asked, still staring at the tattoo.

"I don't have a clue. I swear. And there's no way that was there before last night. I showered, looked in the mirror. I would've seen it. And someone would've noticed it back in the Maze for sure."

"You're telling me they tattooed you in the middle of the night?" Minho said skeptically. "Without you noticing? Come on, dude." But even as he said it, I continued to peer at the other boys. Looking closely, I could see that all of them had some black ink on the same spot of their necks. They all hadn't noticed. I resisted the urge to struggle to look to see if I had one, knowing it would be likely that I did. I wasn't eager to bring attention to myself, and who would know what it would say about me.

I stifled a shudder.

"I swear!" Aris continued to insist. He got up and headed to the bathroom, probably to peer at the tattoo himself.

Minho stalked off back towards Thomas. The boy froze, his gaze on Minho's neck, "Whoa!"

"What?" Minho snapped, glaring at him.

"Your – your neck. You have it on your neck, too!" The two scrambled to read the letters on his neck, weird words spouting out of Minho's mouth. Aris and his mistrust was all but forgotten once he realized that he too had been marked.

"Property of Wicked. Group A, Subject A7. The Leader." Thomas said in a sudden burst. Minho leaped to go to the bathroom, and then a sudden frenzy overtook the boys. They were reading out each and every one of their tattoos back to each other. Newt made specific care to go around and read each tattoo, as if remembering them for some tactical reason. I eyed him warily, but for now they had all seemed to have forgotten I all but existed.

Most just had the property line, but I saw the horror dawn on both Thomas and Newt's face as they realized their labels. Newt was The Glue. Thomas didn't have a name, just 'To be killed by Group B'.

I desperately wanted to know what it said on the side of my neck, but I was too afraid of the others knowing. Knowing and understanding what it meant, using it against me. I felt a quick, optimistic flare. What if it revealed my real name? But I stifled it quickly, there was no use hoping for anything good to come of it. And why would I want a name that WICKED had created for me? I was perfectly happy with The Thing, which was what I told myself.

Newt strode towards me, an apologetic look on his face. I struggled against recoiling. He perched next to me, Thomas standing in front of me. I swept my dark hair off one shoulder, exposing my neck. Thomas watched stoically. Newts hot breath on my skin made me shiver as he peered at the tattoo. I knew he would be able to see the scars which laced my shoulders and back, and I shoved down any vain pride. It didn't matter if they didn't like scars. It wasn't my fault.

"Property of Wicked. Group C. Subject C1." He paused, and for a moment relief flooded in my body. "The Killer."

My heart stopped cold and a metallic taste filled my mouth. Thomas looked at me sharply. Newt pulled away, concern softening his features. I leapt up, stumbling and rushed into the bathroom. I shoved past Minho and Aris, both straining to read their tattoos.

The black ink stood out startlingly on my pale skin. _The Killer._

 _The Killer._

 _The Killer._

Now everyone would know what I was. My heart jumped to my throat and I stumbled, sitting heavily onto the side of the bath. My eyes went glassy. How stupid of me to think that I could ever escape that place? I may not be in the maze, but a vital aspect of my soul died there, and I will never be rid of it. I knew that now.

Aris sat next to me on the side of the tub. Before he could even ask, I swept my hair to the side, exposing the ink. Minho peered over as well, and I saw his eyes widen. I tried a weak smile.

"Well, at least your only responsibility is to kill," said Minho. "I think I'm supposed to be in charge of all you shanks." Aris and I both shared a look of complete and utter bafflement.

"Was that supposed to make me feel _any_ better?" I ask, exasperated. A smirk played on his face and he shrugged.

Aris gave me a supportive squeeze on my shoulder. I tensed, ready to attack. But it was just a comforting gesture. They left me alone in the bathroom.

Alarms began to ring, a piercing siren that caused me to automatically cover my ears. I registered the horrific blaring with panic, throwing myself into the empty bath. I hunkered behind the shower curtain as the alarm continued, persistent and loud. I covered my hands over my ears and squeezed my eyes tightly shut, taking deep breaths. My mind was in a panicked frenzy, unable to think clearly through the menacing sirens. Boys shouted over the noise to talk to one another and I rocked myself backwards and forwards to calm myself. Whimpers escaped my mouth and I didn't care. Hot bile slithered up my throat and I forced it down, tears burning in my eyes. I didn't know how long had passed but that same, familiar alarm blared throughout the room like a menacing embrace. That same damned alarm that prefigured so many, _so many_ deaths. My body trembled like a leaf trying to wrench its way free of a branch. My knees hugged my chest and my feet slammed onto the floor in an unnatural rhythm, a habit, stomping my frustration and fear out through my feet whilst my body remained unresponsive and scared. I sensed something. A slither of apprehension crawled across my skin and a shadow fell over my body. Immediately, my eyes snapped open and scrambled as far away from the boy as possible, never letting my hands from my ears. The tap of the bath dug painfully into my back as I pushed to get as far away from him as possible.

I knew I was far, far away from the maze. And that everyone was dead. But I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more danger to come.

The boy easily pulled the curtain open and sat opposite me, staring with that same curious, half-amused gaze. He shut the shower curtain again. I ignored him and shut my eyes once more, continuing to hide and hunch myself away from the dreadful noise. In the background of my imagination I heard screams and wails and the sadistic cackle of laughter.

And then it stopped as though it had never happened.

I remained in the same position until Minho pulled my hands from my ears.

"Why'd you get so freaked? Just the newbie alarm."

I shook my head. "Might be an alarm for supplies for you. For me… it was something very _very_ different." I shuddered, eyes hollow. Minho shrugged.

"Alright. Scary alarm for Opie."

"Don't call me that." I snapped, my voice sounding too loud and sharp in the silence. The boy raised his brows. "I'm not The Thing, either." I said through gritted teeth, and with that I scrambled out of the bath and into the bedroom. Instantly I made my way over to Newt and Thomas, Minho at my heels. Everyone was deathly silent.

"Don't tell me we're still gonna get bloody Newbies thrown into our laps." Newt broke into the silence.

"Where's the Box in this shuck place?" Minho replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

The door made a creak as it edged its way open. Everyone seemed to look alarmed, and confusion etched itself on my features. I walked forwards towards the darkness.

"That door was locked before." Newt murmured to Minho.

"Guessin' they want us to go out there now," Minho replied.

"Then why don't you go first?" One boy offered. Minho already seemed determined, but I stood in his way.

"No problem." He said, easily swerving around me as though I wasn't there. I backed up a few steps, and blocked his way once more. "Move it. Maybe we'll have a new little shank to pick on and kick in the butt when we got nothin' else to do." I remained where I was, blocking his way to the door. I wasn't sure why I was doing it. Not for any desire to keep him safe, I had become too selfish for that, had too much of a desire for self-preservation. It was for some abstract hope that the locks would be gone and I could leave before anyone would notice. But also to prove myself. "We could use another Chuck." He said, looking at Thomas, with a voice so soft I was mildly shocked to hear it come out of his mouth. He seemed so abrasive and violent it was almost impossible to imagine him to be capable of that softness.

"No. I'll go. You don't trust me, right? I want your trust." I said with a sincerity that surprised even myself. "Plus, if there's a danger gotta live up to my name, right?" I said bitterly. Newt gave me a look of sympathy and I scowled.

"No." Thomas said, surprisingly angry. "You need me to go first?" Directing himself at Minho.

"What did your tattoo say?" Minho asked Thomas.

"Doesn't matter. Minho you go first. Sorry Opie."

"Don't call me that!" I snapped. They all seemed taken aback at the vehemence in my voice, and before they could say another word, I stormed into the darkness.

"Well we can't exactly call you _Thing_ can we?" Someone muttered behind me. I swirled to face the door, and I knew that anger was plain on my face. I selected my most menacing mask, slitting my green eyes threateningly, my lips pulling back from my teeth like a snarl.

"Don't." I warned through clenched teeth, barely suppressed murderous rage lacing my voice. Staring at me were the shocked and baffled faces of the boys. Minho, annoyingly, looked impressed.

The darkness was absolute, despite the small crack of illumination appearing from the dorm. I groped silently along the walls for a light switch, my rough skin catching painfully on the smoothness of the wall. I could here soft murmurs from Minho and Thomas. I tried to ignore them, but Minho was telling Thomas to let me find the switch before they followed. I let the anger fuel my body. They had no right to call me Opie or Thing. I didn't know who these fools were. They thought they were strong? I would show them strength.

I didn't exactly want to be what my tattoo said, but I wasn't going to lie to myself. I was a killer, and if any of them stood in the way of my survival, I would kill them too. I clenched my shaking hands into fists, as though to hide my compassion even from myself.

It was just an advantage that they didn't know who I was, what I was capable of. Underestimating me.

All I had to do was remove myself from my emotions, once more. For the final time, and then I would be free. Free from all this pain and horror.

I found the switch and the light blazed across the world like fire, illuminating the room, and almost as though it was brought on by the light, all the night terrors skittered away, leaving no trace of those bloated and bulbous dead bodies and no remnant of the smell of rot unnaturally pervading the air like a perverse dream.


	5. 5

Hi thanks everyone for the follows/reviews/faves! Let me know what ya think, I don't own the Maze Runner Trilogy :p

* * *

Chapter Five

 _A boy, too covered in grime and blood and sweat and tears that I couldn't even tell who it was. It didn't matter. He was dead. There was no escaping that fate. My gaze was inexplicably drawn to what he was thrashing in agony about, silent screams forcing its way out of his mouth. From the knee down an axe had hacked off his leg like a butcher. Blood – so much blood, like tar, poured from the boys wound as the killer continued to hack hack hack. Severing the leg completely._

 _Next were two twelve year old girls. One still retained the presence of innocence, her wide doe like eyes pleading with the crowd. The other had adapted all too quickly. Her small mouth set in a determined line as the two were thrust into the pit, struggling pathetically against their restraints. The King offered them both a little dagger each, smiling with affection as he ruffled their hair. The innocent one looked horrified, shooting pleading stares at the other. The other, I knew, was ready to kill. She knew what it meant to refuse. She had_ seen _what it was to refuse The King. In fact, staring at them both, I could imagine they had both taken part in what happened to those who defied._

 _The smell of cooking flesh pushed itself up into the forefront of my mind – I forced the memory away._

 _"_ _What's got into you?" The Fox said. His words could have fooled the untrained observer of concern, but his tone and the set of his eyes glared at me with a menace that I still hadn't gotten used to. I returned the look, reaching into my bag of masks._

 _"_ _What's it to you?" I say with as much menace as I can. "Betting with myself to see which will win." I force a cruel smirk to spread on my lips, and from the other side of me, The Pear laughed heartily._

 _"_ _Good job it ain't you down there, Opie. Would definitely bet against you." The Pear said, her voice cackling with a sadistic cruelty. Ice flashed down my spine in fear and disgust at their blatent enjoyment, but my eyes retained an angry heat. If anyone,_ anyone, _thought you were weak you were next to die. We had only been here for 3 weeks, and it was a quick lesson learnt._

 _"_ _Oh?" I say with mock interest, a razor sharp eyebrow lifting. My lips curled nastily. "How would you cope without me?" I say nastily, referring to her drug problem. "And what about you? You're so fat, my dear Pear, you will go down like a felled tree. Providing everyone with enough food for months." My voice got sweeter the more I went on, in time with the ashen expression of The Pear's face. Surrounding me jeers and laughs followed The Pear as her face twisted with the ugliness of her soul. From our seats, she grappled with me, her face contorting in rage._

 _I ducked and deftly lifted my elbow, knocking into her face._

 _"_ ATTENTION _." Everyone stopped what they were doing immediately, lapsing into silence. The Pear gave me an appreciative look as she tried to staunch the flow of blood from her nose. I smiled in return, but my insides churned, hating how easy the vile nature came to me. How quick these creatures could be driven to violence, their lust for it. The constant imbalance of power, tipped by whoever is the most macabre._

 _The King was in the middle of the pit below, the two little girls geared in leather greaves and armour. Their hair had been tied into little plaits, to encourage the visage of innocence. Even from this distance I could see the cold, ice blue eyes of The King glitter with malice._

 _"_ _Today we honour the battle between The Flake," holding up the hand of the girl with a dark determination sparking in her eyes. The crowd roared in anticipation, bringing me up on the same tide of passion and frenzy as the others. I screamed alongside everyone else, all 360 of us left. Dread filled my stomach like cement, and I struggled to keep on my mask. 40 dead already in the space of 3 weeks. My heart felt sick as I knew what would happen next. "And The Diamond!" holding up the arm of the little girl, so caught in her naivety she had no concept of what awaited her._

 _What happened next was awful, and I would never forget it in all the days that I lived. The second the gong sounded, The Flake lashed forwards and stabbed The Diamond in her arm. Blood soaked the ground immediately, looking like a pool of melted rubies. My heart clenched in desire to rush forward and scoop up both the little girls, and rush away. To the girl's credit, she didn't cry out, but tears streamed freely down her face. Agony screamed in her eyes as she stared at The Flake, a little girl, with no restraint in her expression of betrayal and pain. And fear. Fear was what it always came down to, wasn't it?_

 _The Flake jabbed her again with her tiny blade, drawing more blood. The crowd jeers increased in their tempo with the same frenzy of blood lust that had preceded all the deaths before._

 _The similar nature of all who live here… all except for me, broke through. There was a common denominator of a psychopathic cruelty within each of the children here. Some, it took time to unlock. But as of yet I had not observed anyone like me._

 _The Diamond's face twisted into an ugly mask of rage and leapt at the other girl. Surprised, she made no move for defence, and the innocent, not 10 minutes ago shivering in fright, slashed ruthlessly at the face of The Flake, tearing it to ribbons and silencing the shrieking wail of a dying child._

 _I wanted to curl up and cry. My mind was in complete turmoil, hatred seething on the cusp. Fights broke out at failed bets, from the frenzy of blood that left a haze around the arena. The little girl rose from her perch on the dead one and raised her little blade into the air like a lurid proclamation of victory, blood staining her blonde locks and spattered like paint onto her skin._

 _"_ _That was amazing!" The Fox said from beside me, clapping wildly, his face red and breathless in his passion. I swallowed my bile._

 _"_ _I know!" I said with just as much enthusiasm. "Knew it would come out soon enough though." I said cockily._

 _"_ _No you didn't!" The Pear squealed, wrapping her fat hand around my mouth and snapping my neck backwards._

 _I bit into the soggy flesh of her hand, hard, and tore with my teeth, ripping layers of flesh. She roared in both pain and delight as she yanked her hand away. I spat the fleshy glob onto the floor and grinned, blood mixing in my teeth and making me look like a crazed lunatic. Blood dribbled down my chin._

 _From beside The Pear, The Lung slapped her on the back in a fit of giggles. "Good one, Opie." He said, wiping tears away from his eyes from laughter. "Would love to see you down there!"_

 _At this, my hand tightened on the hilt of my machete hanging from my waist, but all I did was grin sadistically. My insides churned in disgust as their approval washed over me like a poison._

 _"_ _Maybe we should call you The Bite!" The Fox said, his elfin face contorting slyly, as though he had gotten an idea._

 _At this, I withdrew my machete and balanced it on my lap. I got out my sharpening stones and began to rub the blade. The others silenced in their jeering, knowing that this weapon was a gift from The King. "If you want to do that, sure, go ahead." I said, as laid back as I could. "But where would you get your drugs? I'm the only one who knows how." I said slyly. "Shush now, the next one is starting."_

* * *

The others crowded in after me, and I felt a shiver of irritation, although I wasn't sure at what. Minho came and stood at one side of me whilst Newt stood on the other. One part of my mind was very aware as to how close they were stood to me, I could feel the heat of their skin radiating from their bodies, making goosebumps rise on my bare arms in anticipation, although I wasn't sure for what. All three of us stood in the middle of the room, open mouthed as we found no trace of the bodies. I shivered despite the heat of the room as I stared at the empty, sterilized room.

"This is impossible," Newt said with his voice filled with incredulity, turning in a slow circle and staring up at where the bodies once were. "Not enough time passed for someone to get them out. And no one else even came into this buggin' room. We would've heard them!"

"You're right, we were in there with the door closed for, what, twenty minutes? No way anyone could've moved all those bodies that quickly. Plus, this place is locked from the _inside_." Minho said in a voice that was a mixture of disbelief and awe.

"Not to mention getting rid of the smell." Thomas added.

"We could've been drugged." I suggested, and Minho looked at me like I had just killed his puppy.

"What kind of drugs would make it so the bodies weren't here, shank?" Staring at me with an intensity that made me want to run.

I stood my ground. "Drugs to imagine that they were here, maybe?" I threw my hands up in the air. "I don't know! At least I'm trying to understand what is going on whilst all you do is point out the obvious. I think I am a bit more experienced in what the – what WICKED are capable of."

"You think that _you're_ more experienced?!" Minho said in a half laugh, his eyes crinkling. "You have no idea what we went through you slinthead."

"Back at you." I snap, stilling him with a hard gaze.

"Well I agree with _her._ You shanks are right smart." One boy said to interrupt our tirade, taking his place by me and his voice laced with annoyance and sarcasm. "But take a look around. They're gone. So whatever you think, somehow they got rid of them. Might be drugs, might not be. Whatever. They're gone."

Minho just looked annoyed and crossed his thick arms over his chest. "Shut _up_ Frypan." He hissed. "We do not side with the enemy."

"I am not the enemy here!" I said with indignation, anger flaring within me. I knew it was stupid to get so riled up by Minho, by some _child._ But I guess that as much as I wanted, the darker part of me wasn't something I had to force anymore. "WICKED is, so shut up you big baby."

"Oh you really hurt my feelings with that insult."

"Do you really want to test me?!" I said, anger filling me up. He made a rude gesture and I had to hold back with everything to avoid launching myself at him.

"Hey!" Some other boy shouted, shutting us up. Minho continued to glare at me, which I matched back. "Those crazy people quit screaming and yelling."

I didn't know what crazy people they were talking about, and Frypan must have seen the confusion on my face.

"In our dorm room there were filled with crazy people screaming at the windows." He whispered, getting close enough that I could feel his breath stirring my hair. I nodded, trying not to jerk away too suddenly away from him to avoid hurting his feelings.

How odd. So it seemed that living with psychopaths for a year doesn't completely eradicate all sense of moral being.

"I just thought we couldn't hear them from Aris's room. But you're right – they stopped." Thomas said from his position on the wall.

Everyone ran to the larger dorm room, me trailing behind curiously. Minho shot me a watchful look before storming after the rest of them. Words of astonishment and wonder rippled through the crowd as everyone tried to squeeze into the room. Thomas waited as each person went inside. He looked at me, as though expecting me to go first. He must have read something in my expression before heading into the room, gesturing for me to follow.

Everyone was crowded around the windows, and behind each window was red bricks all stacked up and cemented. By everyone's exclamations I had to assume that they weren't there before.

"Even if they were quick with those bodies, I'm pretty sure they didn't have time to bloody throw up some brick walls. What's going on here?" Newt said.

Minho began slapping the bricks. "Solid." He remarked.

"No shit." I murmur quietly to myself, and someone beside me gave a breezy laugh, as though he was trying not to. I shot him a quick smirk and he smiled genuinely back, eyes twinkling out from a face covered in acne.

"Winston." He whispered to me and I nod with a small smile.

"Hello Winston." I reply, curiously noting the difference in accents.

"It doesn't even look fresh." Thomas said softly. "The mortars dry. Somehow they've tricked us, that's all."

"Tricked us?" Frypan asked. "How? Drugs?"

"Stop it with the drug theory." Minho said, shooting me another glare from through the crowd. I rolled my eyes dramatically, and his glare hardened.

Thomas shrugged and Newt looked deep in thought. "I don't know. Remember the Cliff? We jumped into thin air and went through an invisible hole. Who knows what these people can do?" I didn't know what it was they were talking about, but I assumed it was an aspect of their maze that mine didn't possess.

Everyone continued inspection of the whole area. Winston offered for me to sit with him and a few of his friends, but I declined politely. I almost winced at his wounded expression, but I figured it was only because I was a girl that he wanted my company.

I think back to the maze, where I was the only surviving female in those last couple of weeks. Fear was my constant companion as I was terrified as to what would happen if I was ever caught. And yet, here, surrounded by boys I don't feel any fear _of_ them. Not even Minho scares me.

Either I've finally become brave or my intuition is telling me that they aren't a danger. That I could trust them. And if I wasn't lying to myself, that seemed scarier than any danger I could face.

I wandered off towards my dorm room. There was only one bed and bathroom with no windows. I quickly shoved my rags of old clothes into the dustbin that I had left scattered in the bathroom and rubbed all the dirt and rusted blood that I had streaked everywhere. The night before, as I had been so exhausted I had not had time for a shower, and thus slept in my bed fully dressed and completely filthy. My dirty sheets had been changed, but I didn't feel it was worth noting to the rest of the boys. I shifted through the drawers which consisted of identical clean outfits and non-descript underwear. In the final draw my leather knapsack and machete lay.

Thrilled, I pulled the utensils onto the bed. I riffled through my knapsack and brought out my sharpening stones. Inside also held my dagger, and though still crusted in blood I hastily washed it with a wet towel, and some rolled up bits of food and a handful of opium wrapped up in a leaf. I placed them all back into my knapsack quickly and hid it too, knowing that the supplies may be of use at some point.

A knock on the door had me hiding my machete hastily beneath the cover. I tried to perch on my bed casually, but I think the effect looked more suspicious than anything.

The door opened to reveal Minho. His usual glare was missing.

"Hey, you should know. Uh. Your door has a sign on it." Minho said awkwardly, his face turning an odd shade of red. Immediately I began to blush, my pale skin turning bright and burning.

Curiously I stood up and got to the door, surprised I didn't notice it when I first walked in. Instead of being blank, words were engraved into a gold plate in beautiful cursive writing.

 _Eva Parker. Group C, Subject C1._

 _The Killer._

"My name is Eva?"


	6. 6

Hello! Hope you like this and let me know what you think of this fic and Eva!

Chapter Six

 _I watched with both hands on my hips as the fence was constructed around my poppy field. My dark hair was tied back due to the increasing heat of the sun. The King stood beside me, his presence like an aura of unease, causing my stomach to churn and me to shift worriedly on my feet. He turned to look at me, his blonde hair shimmering like spun gold in the sunlight. If I didn't know what he was, I could have easily been fooled at the mask the creature puts on. Whilst I pretend to be like everyone else, he pretends to be different._

 _He pretends that his good deeds are for the benefit of us all._

 _And that keeps him in power. And the fact that he has the biggest and best of the psychopaths at his beck and call, reducing the violent creatures to little more than house pets, trained to kill._

 _"_ _How very innovative of you to find the use of these flowers." He remarked, his voice sliding over my skin like a snake._

 _I grinned at him, forcing my eyes to narrow darkly. "Thanks. I've not got much else use." He nodded thoughtfully, his shoulders set._

 _"_ _You have a name yet?" I shook my head silently._

 _"_ _Well from now on, you're The Opie. My main opium distributor. You yourself will harvest the opium from the poppies and distribute it. Only you, I don't want too much being produced and having a crazed population here. Also, you said you're not much use anywhere else?"_

 _I nodded slowly, anxiety itching its way through my body._

 _"_ _Well then, don't reveal any trade secrets. You don't want anyone stealing your poppies and rendering you useless." He smiled with what seemed like genuine helpfulness and I grinned back, putting as much adoration as I could into the smile. His self-satisfied set of his posture increased. "I'll give you a security detail on the poppies for now, but we will need to instill it into everyone that stealing is against the rules. Perhaps making an example of someone in a few weeks?" I nodded in agreement. His grin was iron. "Who do you hate?"_

 _I knew he would want a name. I forced a macabre grin onto my face as I thought, but my mind was racing. I knew what The King meant. Scare everyone into not stealing. Kill or torture someone in front of everyone. And he wanted me to choose who that would be, and I knew that he wouldn't take no for an answer._

 _I thought back to The Heat, the boy who had tried to force himself onto me that first night. At that moment in time, not everyone was a complete sadist and they had helped me before anything transpired. That night was chaos, people killing, torture and getting raped without cause or purpose. It was then The King had taken over. The Heat had walked away unhurt, taunting me with a smile that promised to fulfill what he had set out to do._

 _An anger bubbled up within me like magma, an emotion so intense I didn't know I possessed. "The Heat." I spit out, fully letting my anger contort my features._

 _I got no hint of whether The King approved or disproved, he just nodded thoughtfully and moved onto the next topic. "However much I want I can have, agreed?"_

 _"_ _Oh, yeah of course. Obviously." I babbled, my anger ebbing away just as quickly as it came. He smiled at me angelically. He had no idea my nervousness was due to my fear of him, the fear of what he could do to me. But I didn't hate him. Not yet. He was the one which controlled complete and mass destruction and pain. He could stop it, and I tried to ignore just how easily he could start it too. "Uhm, what about everyone else? Like, what if they want it?"_

 _"_ _Trade with whatever you want. Start small, get them addicted, and then build up your price. Just a suggestion." He said with a smile, and walked off. The second he was out of the woods and into the green, all the older girls flocked to him like sheep._

 _As though sensing my gaze, he turned and caught my eye; giving me a weighty stare before giving a knowing smile and heading off, the females at his heels._

 _I shivered with excitement. I was actually happy. I finally had a use. My stomach rumbled painfully, but all I felt was glee. There had been talk of killing the fat ones for food. People. Cannibalism. Nothing had happened yet, but it had been days since proper food. Everyone was starving. And now with this opium, I could get whatever I wanted. I could get the food which was in short supply, avoiding the prospect of eating human flesh._

 _Human children._

 _"_ _Hey!" I shout at the builders constructing the fence with as much anger and authority I could muster. "Hurry up, I have_ not _got all day."_

* * *

I just stared at the plaque on my door, and Thomas seemed equally fascinated by the one on Aris's door.

 _Eva_.

It didn't resonate with me. I didn't have a sudden flash of recognition. Minho gave me a look of pity as I stared at the plate before me. I didn't know how long I stood there, it could have been minutes or hours. After a while Minho left me alone.

I had an identity. I wasn't some faceless, nameless nobody anymore.

I had a past. I existed before all of this.

That made my name so much scarier.

Thomas ran into his room at some point, but I didn't pay much mind.

Eva. Eva. Eva. Short for something? Evaline? I didn't know.

Parker. The name that I shared with my parents? A fake, fabricated name by WICKED?

The name both repulsed and attracted me. It showed that I had an identity. I wasn't just some faceless person that WICKED kept to torture for fun. I existed before all of this. I had a life. I either had parents who gave me that name, or WICKED did. And that meant that I had a purpose. However, that did little to settle the nauseating feeling building up in my stomach.

I focused on other things, trying not to dwell too much on my name. It was a name. Big whoop. Not like it was anything important, like revealing WICKED's game plan.

Newt. Okay. Enemy or friend? Newt seemed kind with a physical disadvantage of a limp. He seemed to be a little younger than I, or some of the others, but wiser. I oddly trusted him, if it weren't just for the sole reason that I knew I could take him down in a fight.

Minho was an enigma. He seemed determined to come across as the tough guy, which reminded me too much of the characters in the maze.

I didn't know enough about Thomas to describe his personality. He seemed like the hero in everyone's eyes. People looked to him, waited for him. My experience of him so far was that he was nothing special.

None of these people were. They were just abused teens like myself, thrown in a horrifying world to see who would be the luckiest to escape alive.

Newt joined me after a while and stood next to me silently as I stared at the words. Eva Parker. The Killer.

"So Eva, huh? Suits you." He said.

I shrug. "It doesn't feel like my name. I thought that when I heard it I would at least recognize it, but I don't. The Killer seems more like my name than Eva." I tried to joke, but it came out forced and awkward. I turned to stare at him. "Is it my name?"

"It doesn't have to be." My eyes narrowed as I stared down the blonde boy.

"You're not calling me The Thing or Opie, if that's what you're thinking." I said, anger and shame lacing together in my voice.

Newt gave a slight chuckle, crossing his lightly muscled arms across his chest and leaning onto the doorframe. "No, don't worry. What I mean is, you can pick your own name if you want. You have more reason than most to hate WICKED. Why have a name that they chose for you?"

"But what if my parents gave me this name?" I mentally kicked myself at how vulnerable my voice suddenly sounded.

"Well, it really is up to you." He said with a soft smile. We stood in silence for a while, and I was all too aware that he was looking at me. I shifted on the balls of my feet awkwardly. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable, but everyone is settling down to sleep. You could come and stay in the big dorm with the rest of us. Aris is too. Just, it might be dangerous to stay by yourself." He shifted uncomfortably and his pale skin heated up with a blush. My body tensed, half expecting him to give me a hug and the other half expecting an attack.

I mentally scolded myself on the latter expectation. These people had done nothing to hurt me, and it was sensible. Safety in numbers. And Newt seemed gentle.

I nodded and followed him into the dorm room. Some people were sleeping, some were sat up, talking softly. Everyone looked up as I walked in, and my face went red. I lifted up my chin and tried to look proud, but the tremble of my bottom lip gave the game away.

Newt smirked slightly, although it wasn't mean. He gestured to a bunk bed furthest away from the majority of the group. Thomas was asleep on the bottom bunk of the bed closest to the one that Newt had appointed me, curled up beneath the blanket with his face turned into the pillow. Minho sat on the top, back resting against the wall with his eyes closed.

"You can take the top, I'll take the bottom." Newt said, leaning against the pole of the bed that Minho and Thomas shared.

"Where is Aris?" I asked, searching the room.

Newt pointed to a bed that seemed too crowded for it to be accommodated in the room. Aris noticed Newt pointing and gave a slight smile as he followed my gaze. He also gave a sarcastic wave, which I dutifully ignored. "There was only enough beds for the 20 of us gladers, so we dragged his bunk bed in here so you guys could stay."

"And I missed all that?" I said with disbelief.

"Well you were studying that plaque with some intensity." Newt said with a smile.

I thought back to my machete and my knapsack. "Hold on." I rushed off to my room, heading through the empty and desolate common area. Thankfully, my supplies were still where I had left them. I nervously strapped them on, sliding the taut leather over my thin but lean shoulders. My holster for my machete was missing, and so I carried it warily into the room, trying to look as unthreatening as possible. Not that it was hard, being 5"3, skinny and a girl amongst 21 brawny boys was a recipe for not being considered a threat. Not many people noticed, but when I got closer to Newt, his eyes widened.

"Whoa. Where the bloody hell did'ya get that?"

I hung my knapsack off the pole of my bunk and slid the blade beneath the mattress, hilt sticking out slightly from the side. "It's what I brought with me from the maze." I tried to sound casual, but I could feel Minho's eyes tracking me, assessing me, and obviously finished faking being asleep.

"And how many shanks did you kill with that thing? Do you even know how to use it?" Minho asked, his voice rough with a tinge of amusement, a sideways smile tugging at his lips.

"Enough." I shot, and before he could say another word I climbed to the top bunk. Minho sat up as though to try to talk to me, but I moved onto my side and faced away from him and towards the wall.

"Eva?" Newt said, my name sounding like a beautiful prayer escaping his lips. I shuddered inwardly. Nothing, nothing about me would ever be beautiful, soft or graceful. I was almost tempted to revert back to The Thing.

"What?" I snapped, wincing at the harshness of my voice.

"Come on. Don't be a shank and turn around." I followed Minho's words and turned until I faced him instead. His dark hair started falling into his eyes as he stared at me. Newt was perched beside him on his bunk, his lanky legs dangling into midair.

"What?" I repeated, trying to force the hostility out of my voice.

Newt and Minho shared a look. "Eva, we want to trust you, we really do." Newt said kindly.

"But," Minho butted in. "We need to know what you've done. Like, killed and all that shuck stuff."

"We realise that it was probably to survive in that shuck place. But," Newt hesitated. "Your tattoo. We just wanna get you."

Most of this didn't register. All I could concentrate on was my name. Eva. The way it was spoken, like a caress. I felt a small shiver slide its way down my body, and I pushed it away. I needed to make them trust me. But I could lie, right? Or should I just come outright with the truth?

I sat up, adopting the position I saw Minho in earlier, back rested against the wall. I rubbed a weary hand over my face. Lie or be truthful? As I spoke I studied my roughened hands, tracing the scars that lay within every plane of my skin, on the backs of my hands and on the palms. More reminders of that godforsaken place.

"I told you how it was. 400 of us in the Glade. A dorm thing, an arena for us to butcher each other, poppy field, woods, the maze. Everyone was outside of the Box, unconscious. Except for me." I didn't know why I was telling them this, divulging information that I had never shared with anyone before, but as I spoke I became more and more relaxed. "I was awake for hours before anyone else woke up. Even from the beginning, I knew I was different." I paused.

"And then what?"

"What do you mean? Once everyone woke up, anarchy spread like wildfire. People ran into the maze and never came back. Others took charge, trying to rape whoever they could, killing those who fought."

"And you?" Newt said softly.

I shot him a sharp look, my brows furrowing in anger. "Did anyone rape me?"

Newt gave an almost tentative nod, and Minho suddenly averted his eyes. Expecting the worst. At least they understood the hell that I had come from. I let out a breath of air and briefly closed my eyes, pushing back the tears building up behind my lids like a physical force. I hated crying. "One tried, and he got what was coming to him." I said, a dark smile flitting across my face as I remembered The Heat – his dark eyes, charming smile, and his final scream. My eyes dried up.

"See what I mean shank?" Minho said. "When you smile like that you look like a right evil slinthead."

"I did what I had to do." I protested, instantly dropping the twist of my lips. It truly was horrifying that I took pleasure in the torturous death of The Heat, and the disgust I felt was mirrored on my face. I resisted the urge to cover up my face, run away and cry. I clenched my hands into fists at my sides to prevent both the boys from seeing them shaking. But he deserved it, a small voice argued. I wasn't the only girl that he had tried to abuse, but I was the only one to get away. It was justice.

Minho rolled his eyes dramatically, shooting an exaggerated look at Newt. Newt just looked mildly amused as he watched me. I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

"Look, it's like you said right? What about me? I didn't fit in, I wasn't a bloodthirsty psycho like everyone there. I was different, and I was the only one to live. I _pretended_ to be just like the rest to save my own skin, but I guess along the way it's in my nature now." I said with a shrug. "Yeah, I killed. I am _the killer,_ apparently. Meaning I'll probably do it again. I don't know if it means I kill you, or other people, or this group B. But I do have a choice in it all, so trust me or don't." I finished grimly.

"Well…I like a girl who can hold herself in a fight." Minho said, his voice playful and cocky, completely changing the mood of the discussion. I stared at him with the same expression of bewilderment as Newt, until he burst out laughing, completely breaking the tension between us all. I couldn't help it, even I cracked a smile. The other boys in the room began to stare as they heard both Minho's booming laugh and Newt's hearty chuckle.

"So you trust me?" I ask, almost tentatively, and curse myself for it. Why in the world did I sound so hopeful?

"I could take you any day, you ain't a danger." Minho said with a smile, and I scoffed, promising to challenge that theory. He instantly got riled up, and Newt shook his head with exasperation. I saw the small smile twist his lips as he mock punched Minho in the arm.

I moved down the bed, getting under the covers and turning away from them both, a small smile on my face. It was quickly eradicated by my cynicism.

I needed to stay removed from these people. I couldn't go through the maze again, and if I was forced to kill them I at least didn't want to have any friendship between us.

I drifted off to sleep, and when I woke up the whole room was dark, everyone having gotten into bed and sleeping as well. My stomach gurgled loudly, and I tiptoed out of the room to go into my own. My need to pee was greater than my need to sleep, and no way was I peeing next to a room of teenage boys. I hadn't lost all of my pride.

My eyes squinted at the sudden brightness. Sitting in the middle of the common room were Minho, Newt, Winston and a few other boys I didn't recognize, seemingly deep in conversation, their whispers becoming a soft lull over the room.

Winston noticed me and gave me a small smile, drawing everyone's attention to me. Newt smiled and Minho didn't give any indication that he knew I was there.

"Hey Eva." Newt said, a casual grin on his face.

"What are you doing?" I ask suspiciously, staring at the wide eyed boys.

"Nothing that concerns you." Said Minho shortly. "Where're you off?"

"I'm joining this meeting you're having, actually." I reply, trying to ignore the increasing pressure on my bladder.

"Oh really? We're not even having a meeting." Minho said, with a raise of his eyebrow.

"Yes, actually. You're chatting bullshit. Of course you are, _the leader._ " I said snidely, my mouth twisting into a smirk. Winston chuckled and tried to cover it up with a cough.

"Oh whatever you shuck face." Minho grumbled.

Newt leant forward onto his elbows on top of the table and began filling me in. "Honestly we were just discussing you. Your label." Instantly, I went onto alert and began to glare at Newt, who I knew tried not to look like it affected him too. He gulped.

"And?" I said stonily, hands on my hips, still stood at the end of the table.

"And..." Newt replied, sharing a look with the rest of the boys.

"And we agreed that it would be good for you to be on our side. So, basically, none of us act as much of a slinthead as Minho has." A boy with dark hair streaked with grey replied, smirking at Minho.

"Slim it." Minho replied, a large grin on his face.

My expression remained stone, and the laughter filtered off awkwardly. All mirth left the room as I took a seat at the head of the table.

"So, you're telling me that to make sure I don't become an enemy, you all _fake_ being nice for your benefit?" I ask, my voice as hard and cold as iron. I felt deadened and unsurprised at this revelation, and was furious with myself that I didn't realise it before. Newt's soft smiles and Minho's chuckles were all to make sure that _The Killer_ didn't turn on them. A slow flame began to build up within me, and I strained to control my angry trembling.

"What?! No!" Newt protested. "Not be fake! But make sure you feel part of the group, because you are." He said with a weak smile. It did nothing to wipe off my closed off expression.

"Eva don't be a slinthead. That's not what we meant." Minho continued.

"It's not fake!" Someone else continued to protest.

Without another word, I rose from my perch and returned to the dorm room, collecting up my items. The light from the common room spilled into the dorm light sunlight, and I could hear the furious whispers of the boys in their meeting. I heard Minho call Newt a stream of profanities. Coldly, I felt a wave of satisfaction at how much they had worked themselves up over me.

I returned to the room with my weapon hanging loosely from my hand. The wide, round eyes of fear from the boys instantly shot an arrow of shame into me. Maybe I was wrong. And I knew it definitely was wrong to continue to torture and frighten them.

With a deep breath, I kept my resolve. I couldn't have them thinking I was weak. I needed to prove myself. I had already shown that I could be a shivering, quaking vulnerable mess. Maybe it was time they saw the other side of me. My mask.

"You want to be my friend?" I say sarcastically. The boys all share wary looks. "Then leave me alone from now on." My voice turns hard and cold. I move to walk to my single dorm room, when Minho's voice stops me.

"Don't be so dramatic. We need each other to get out of this shuck place. And what's so wrong that we wanted you on our side?"

I turned slowly, my lips pulled off my teeth and set like a snarl. "Fine, you want my help? Earn it." I spit, and slowly return to my dorm.

I settle in my bed methodically, confusion washing over my body. Why did I always have to wreck things? What they were wanting was tactical _and_ reasonable. I just blew up in their faces for no reason, the anger within me becoming too familiar.

I fell asleep to the soft lull of their continued whispers and the growling of my stomach.


End file.
